


Blue as a Daydream

by Professional_Creeper



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Dreaming, F/M, Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professional_Creeper/pseuds/Professional_Creeper
Summary: Querl Dox is always there when Kara needs some company, even in her sleep.





	Blue as a Daydream

 

The loft is too big for one person, Kara realizes. The emptiness spreads out, dark and bleak, from her little island on the couch to the distant walls and too-large windows. Without friends to fill the room with warmth and laughter, it feels as vast as space. She'd rather not remember being stuck inside that Kryptonian pod, so instead she imagines the couch is a raft adrift on the ocean, and she's Tom Hanks. Kara smirks at the image, shifts to her side, and tries to close her eyes.

Half of her is sick of sleep after being stuck in a coma for so long; the other half is buzzing with the need to find Reign. None of her wants to go to bed. Even less of her wants to be alone. Her eyes pop open again like the lids are on springs.

_TAP, TAP, TAP_

A rapid succession of knocks sets her flying, and she throws the door open before Querl Dox can finish the last sharp blow. His blue fist hangs, deprived of purpose, in the air, then opens into a salutation.

“Hello.”

“Brainy?” Kara's brow cinches in confusion, though she's smiling.

He pauses a bit too long for it not to be awkward.

“What are you… doing here?” she offers.

“Ah. Yes. That.” The lights on his forehead seem to flicker in panic, or maybe that's just her imagination. He attempts a suave grin (and does not _quite_ succeed) as his other hand produces a bag hidden behind his back. “I brought popcorn!”

“You—what?”

“I spent a day in your mind's interpretation of this loft. You have a unique dedication to snack foods. I was able to extrapolate your favorites, and believe this will appeal to your tastes.”

Her mouth falls open in surprise, then mock-indignation. “Hey, there's a lot more to me than snacks. I can't believe all you got out out of an entire day in my brain is _popcorn_ —that smells delicious, is that maple?!”

She snatches the bag and waves him in.

She had been wishing for some company anyway. And if she was honest, part of her hoped it would be him. When she was trapped inside that coma, all she could think about was getting out. Only looking back on it later did she start to realize how important he had been that day, just by being there with her. Scouring for neurological damage in his slightly-abrasive know-it-all way. Making sure she was OK. Listening to her. Letting her know what was happening on the outside. More than that, without him, she would've been alone. He rescued her from that fate, and made the coma (almost) bearable. And here he is again, right when she needs him.

Her face starts to heat up, and she can feel a dopey expression forming on her lips, so she rips open the bag and shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth. _Wow, it really is delicious_. Except now she can't talk. “Oou wanna wash a moofie?” she gestures at the television.

“Early 21st-century cinema?” he gasps, eyes widening. He picks out a DVD from her collection, holding it like a rare artifact. He frowns in disdain once he opens the case. “Optical storage? How does this primitive system even handle holographic programing?”

“It doesn't.”

“So these are flat images, and they're meant to be entertainment? Maybe we should make cave paintings and light a fire so they look like they're moving.”

She crosses her arms, cutting off his next complaint. “That is my favorite movie. If you really think people from this time period are so primitive, what are you even doing here?”

“O-Of course. Sorry. Two dimensional viewing will be fine.”

Kara huffs, then flops onto the couch cradling her popcorn. He manages to contain the rest of his critical comments—at least he tries. Halfway through the movie, a blatant scientific inaccuracy triggers a passionate rant, but Kara figures it's a good sign he's enjoying himself.

The couch feels less like a lonely raft with Querl sitting beside her, with the glow of the television casting flickering blue shadows. They start off on opposite sides, leaving an uncomfortable platonic cushion between them, but somehow, by the film's climax, they've drifted into the middle together. Her arm curls around his, and his mind, which can focus on a thousand things at once, is too preoccupied to notice the film.

On the screen, Mon-El and Imra frolic along a sunset-soaked beach as a romantic soundtrack swells and falls. Mon-El spins her around playfully before getting down on one knee.

“This part always makes me cry,” Kara sniffles into Querl's sleeve.

“Would you rather watch something else?”

“No. I think I'm OK. I used to think this was the end of the movie, and it made me so, so sad. But maybe it's just the beginning. Maybe the sequel will be even better.”

He puts an arm around her shoulders, and pulls her closer. His heart pounds wildly in her ear, even as he tries to act calm. She runs her fingers through his white hair.

 

* * *

 

Kara wakes up. Bright glare from the oversized loft windows burns her eyes, and tells her it that morning has been here awhile. The couch she fell asleep on is empty, with no sign of Querl Dox. As consciousness takes hold, a wave of realization hits her: he was never there. It was a dream. Brainiac 5has never even been to her loft in real life.

But was last night real?

If he—the real him—could show up in a coma dream, couldn't he project himself into her regular dreams? It had felt so right at the time, so real, but the truth was, she barely knew him. She wouldn't have gotten so cuddly so fast if she were awake. He had some questions to answer.

 

* * *

 

  
Supergirl could have come crashing through the D.E.O.'s ceiling, but she managed to scrape together _some_ restraint and stormed in through the door, a whirlwind of leaves and papers in her wake. She found Brainiac 5 immersed in research at a computer. She spins his chair to face her.

“Were you inside _my brain_ last night?”

“In… your… brain?” His eyes are as big as the glowing discs on his forehead as his 12th-level intellect runs through 4,546,342 possible reasons she could be angry at him, and calculates the probability that she was going to crush him like a bug.

She lowers her voice to a hiss, because people are starting to stare. “Yes. You know. The… coma trick? Did you go into my brain again without my permission?”

“No. That would be impossible, unless you were wearing the crown. My A.I. allows me to interface with technology, but I'm not a telepath.”

Her fist unclenches its grip on his chair. The metal frame is bent. “Oh my god. Of course you're not. I knew that.” She covers her face with her hand. “I'm sorry, I don't know why I thought—I'm so stupid.”

“Well, we can't all be as smart as… me,” he laughs nervously. Then in an instant, his confusion vanishes, and his obnoxious intellectual manner is back. “Wait. Did you dream about me?”

“No!”

“You asked if entered your unconscious mind. Therefore, you must have seen me in your unconscious mind. I did not. Therefore, it must have been an internally-generated projection. Therefore… Supergirl had a dream… about _me_. Huh.”

Her face is hot as a burning coal under his examination. “OK, yes. Maybe. Maybe a little,” she groans.

A star-struck smile spreads across his face, then it falls. She's still hiding her face.

“Was it… bad?”

“No, no!” She finally lifts her head from her hands, and her piercing blue eyes reassure him. “It was nice, actually. I guess I remembered you being there for me when I was in the coma, and _poof_ , there you were.”

“I hope you know I would never invade your brain, except for medical emergencies.”

“Thanks,” she laughs. “You know, we've never really hung out in the real world. Maybe we could catch a movie sometime.”


End file.
